Thanks For the Memories
by Sorge
Summary: Rory and Gary the Gadget Guy meet for coffee. Oneshot


**Thanks For the Memories**

The sun was setting over the pines and the hills like a sea of liquid gold, clear as glass on the snow. A cool wind blew. Rory sipped at his tea.

The coffee shop was dim and quiet, closed for the day and empty of penguins. Only the soft clatter of dishes in the kitchen told him he wasn't alone. The smell of fresh sawdust was in the air and all his tools lay neatly bundled up in a work blanket. His yellow plastic construction helmet lay on the table beside him. He'd come to change a light bulb, and while he was at it, decided just to strip and replace the wiring too.

He didn't mind. It was the most interesting job he'd done in quite a while and he was glad to see that his hands still remembered their work. Now that he was the boss of his own construction company, he rarely got the chance to get hands-on with a project anymore. But he still remembered.

The bell above the door tinkled, and he glanced up from his mug, spying a familiar face in the pastry counter's reflection. It was Gary the gadget guy, an old friend. They were about the same age and he'd known the other penguin since the days of the PSA.

"Hey, Gary! How are you?" he called.

"Hello, Rory! I'm getting by just fine, thank you."

"Pull up a chair?" Rory asked hopefully, sliding a stool out with his foot.

"Just a moment. I have to swipe a bag of this most excellent brew," Gary said, selecting for himself a bag of dark-roast coffee grounds from under the counter. "This coffee is truly outstanding."

"They just let you come in here and take it?" Rory asked bemusedly.

"We have an understanding," Gary said offhandedly, hinting that there might be more to the story. "I have a moment. Want to talk?"

"Sure. Have a seat," Rory offered. "Tea?"

"Oh, no thank you. I've brought my own," Gary said, producing a thermos of rich-smelling espresso, very nearly overpowering the residual odor of coffee in the café.

Rory wrinkled his nose, returning to his cup of green.

"I thought you quit. All that caffeine ain't healthy, you know. You've got to take it easy with a nice cup of tea every now and then—like me."

"I need it to keep me sane. I only quit after I found out that Rookie was running hot water through the same grounds every day for a week to save time."

"What, for real? That's pretty good, Gary," Rory chuckled. "But you should see my guys try to make coffee. They seem to think it's done when you can stand a spoon in it. Poured myself a cup the other day and spent the whole night on the toilet. Now I drink tea."

"Well, good for you," Gary said, hiding his smile. "You'll probably live longer. How's work these days?"

"Can't complain," Rory sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Business has been crazy with all of the remodeling they've been doing around town. I've had to hire a bunch of temporaries."

"You've done good work, Rory. This place has never looked better," Gary said, looking around the darkened café.

"Thanks, I'll pass it along." He finished his cup of tea and glanced at his reflection in the brand-new glass pane. It was already a little smudged. "How about you? Invented anything neat lately?"

"Not really," Gary admitted. "A couple of things for myself just to stay entertained, but I don't get much time to mess around in the workshop anymore. I haven't had much fun since the ghost-hunting expedition. We're just too busy with paperwork nowadays."

"I know the feeling" Rory said, feeling a twinge of melancholy. "I mostly just answer the phone and file paychecks from my office now. I really miss going out just to build stuff."

Gary nodded in sympathy.

"That's the mark of success, Rory. There are some days that I'd like nothing more than the workshop to myself and a pile of scrap metal to tinker with, but sometimes you've just got to let it go."

"Yep. It's probably for the best that you and I aren't in the business anymore," Rory piped up as a sudden memory struck him. "Sometimes things get a little crazy, like the time the island flooded and we ended up just lifting the whole bloody thing straight out of the water and called it a party. Probably could have fixed that with a sump, come to thing of it."

"Ah, yes, the Island Lifter 3000! I meant to ask you—wherever did you find such a big balloon?"

"Trade secret," Rory laughed. "But out of curiosity, why did you build a machine like that in the first place?"

"Good question," Gary said, grinning. "I was just thinking about how depressing rainy days are one day, so I resolved to do something about it. My first idea was going to be this great big umbrella to go over the island, but then Rookie looks up at the sky and says "I bet there's no rain above the clouds, it's probably always sunny up there!" and the rest was just destined to be."

Both penguins exploded into laughter. Time passed and the tea went cold, but neither penguin noticed. They made idle chat for over an hour, happily reminiscing on their past adventures. It finally grew dark and the streetlights clicked on, bringing an end to their conversation.

"Well," Gary said finally, "I think I should be going."

"Same here," Rory agreed, conscious of the time. "Hey, thanks for stopping by. It was really nice talking to you."

"No worries. We should do this again sometime."

"Definitely," Rory agreed, taking the other penguin's flipper and shaking it firmly. "You know, once you get the HQ fixed up and the demand for construction quiets down, maybe we could get away or something. I've got a whole garage full of junk that you might like to take a look at. I bet we could build something pretty cool."

"I'd like that," Gary agreed. "Let's do that soon."

"Take care, Gary."

"And you, Rory."

The door tinkled again, and Gary was gone, trudging into the darkness until even his white lab coat was lost in the snow. Rory remained, leaning back in his seat and idly swirling the tea leaves in his mug. Maybe he'd come to the coffee shop again tomorrow. The ceiling could use a lick of paint, and the paperwork could wait. He was okay with that.


End file.
